


Cooking with Kaz

by CaptainCaptainJill



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Gender-neutral Reader, Light Swearing, Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain, Miller is grumpy, Ocelot is sly, One Shot, Other, Reader-Insert, Sharing a Bed, Snake is absent, cooking together, it's not a date but it is a date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:07:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29294142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainCaptainJill/pseuds/CaptainCaptainJill
Summary: "Commander Miller, I’ve heard your curry dish is supposed to be divine. I would give a lot to try it."And so you do.
Relationships: Kazuhira Miller/Reader, Ocelot (Metal Gear) & Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Cooking with Kaz

**Author's Note:**

> There is not enough Kaz x reader content out there.
> 
> The idea came to me after I saw this picture: https://i.redd.it/mrgiqatkr8yx.jpg  
> I immediately wanted to give him a hug and help him, because Miller is precious and needs protection! But I only wrote down the general concept. A long, long time later it popped back up and I decided to finish it as a little one shot. It’s obviously set during Metal Gear Solid V The Phantom Pain.  
> This story is supposed to be sweet and gentle because Miller deserved better.

**Cooking with Kaz**

Starring:

Benedict "Kazuhira" Miller

Bloody "Reader" Wallaby

Guest starring:

Revolver "Shalashaska" Ocelot

Diamond Dogs Soldiers

_1984, Seychelles Waters_

_Diamond Dogs Mother Base, Command Platform_

"Commander Miller, I’ve heard your curry dish is supposed to be divine."

Your sudden comment disturbed the silence that had settled in the small, paper stuffed office on the command platform. Dust particles lazily danced in the sunlight, right before where you were currently standing. The golden ray touched your elbow. It was warm. You didn’t mind.

The commander lifted his head. The look he shot you acted as a warning you simply ignored.

"Who told you that? Snake?", he spat. Almost venomous.

You nodded and with a dreamy sigh you said, "I would give a lot to try it."

"Hmpf."

The annoyed grunt alarmed you, while violently shattering your cheerfulness. _Clouds approaching._

"Did I say something wrong?"

"You just reminded me, I’m not even good enough for kitchen work anymore." His voice was nothing but a snarl. Angry. Oh so angry.

_Shit._

"I am sorry, commander. I..I did not mean it like that. Really. I promise.", you hastily sputtered. Biting your tongue for this unnecessary carelessness and hoping he would accept your sincere apology.

He forwent from giving you a lecture. Which was a good sign. He still looked upset though. Brows furrowed and lips pressed in a thin line. Clearly his mood was drowned now. If there only was a way to cheer him up…

After a second your mind came up with an idea. A _pretty good_ idea.

"Commander, are you free this evening?", you asked hopefully.

He raised an eyebrow in suspicion. His scrutinizing gaze left little room for escape, but you were not intent on backing down.

"Why do you care?"

"Yes or no?"

"Bloody Wallaby."

_Uh oh._ He usually only refereed to you as Wallaby. Never as _Bloody_ Wallaby. That cursed prefix. Calling you just by the second half of your codename was his form of showing respect towards you and your sacrifices to keep the diamond dogs shiny.

"May I remind you that I am your commanding officer. Your boss. It’s not exactly professional to ask me out. There are strict rules here on mother base and..", he scolded you.

"Did I asked you out on a date?", you quickly replied in order to save your grace.

Technically speaking, no. But Miller was uncertain nonetheless. Maybe that was why he stayed silent, overthinking your odd request.

"So, can I count you in?"

"There are still reports I should read and the next missions need to be prepared and.."

You shushed him grinning. "I’m gonna ask again. Are you free this evening?"

Miller let out a sigh. Defeat in his tone he mumbled, "Fine. I am free."

There was no use in fighting you.

"Wonderful.", you smiled widely. White pearly teeth showing. "I’ll pick you up at 1800."

And with that you bolted out of the office. A little too eager. Not giving him any chance to change his mind.

Miller shook his head. You really were a handful, he thought. And with that he returned to his paperwork.

*

1800 sharp you sticked your head through the door of Miller’s office, peering in and smiling happily. He kind of hoped you had forgotten. _Coward._

"Are you ready, commander?"

With a heavy sigh he got up. While awkwardly trying to put on his trench coat he tripped the crutch over. With a rattling sound it fell to the floor. Miller cursed under his breath. Quickly you skirted around the table.

"Allow me to help." You gently reached for the coat.

"I don’t need your help!", he barked. Forcing you to take a step back, flinching involuntarily.

He managed to get dressed while you quietly picked up the crutch, handing it over without another word. He aggressively snatched it from you.

"The date is cancelled. You should go now. Get lost!"

Your heart fell, but you bit back the sad plea that started to build in the back of your throat. His sudden change in domineer made you feel unease. You hated it when his temper got the best of him. You were mentally collecting a shard of every mug he send flying your way. And two from every one you failed to dodge. By now you had a whole fucking cupboard filled with broken coffee mugs. Sadly you ran out of glue only a few months after being assigned to Miller.

"I said go away!", he yelled again, since you never moved.

You grasped in surprise when the blunt tip of the crutch dashed against your shoulder, sending you falling backwards. You reached for the crutch. More out of reflex rather than in a petty attempt of saving yourself. This poorly considered action caused Miller to loose balance as well. Following in your wake he fell after you. _Timber._

You landed on your back. Miller colliding unbridled on top of you. Him crashing against your torso left you grasping for air. His skull smashed into yours so forcefully, you saw dozens of white stars dancing. His body was burying yours. He was painfully heavy.

Cursing roughly he tried to get back up.

"What in God’s name has gotten into you, Bloody Wallaby? Are you trying to kill me? For fucks sake.", he yelled straight into your face without any form of restrain while getting up on his healthy arm.

His forehead was _fucking_ hurting. It took him only one look to tell why. Bloody nose and one eye on the brink of swelling. He had got you good. A perfect head butt. As a throbbing pain spread from the center of your face, tears started dwelling in the corner of your eyes. _To hell with your dignity._

Groaning lightly you blinked the blurry haze away and were met with the unshielded expression of your superior. Fury blazed down at you. A supernova at the brink of explosion. You’d better prepare your funeral.

Still slightly dizzy you reached up with one hand to readjust his aviators. If he weren’t so desperately trying to push himself up, he would be swatting your caring fingers away.

"I am so, so sorry, commander.", you were quick to apologize, while bracing for the worst.

"You better fucking be.", he spat. "I’m gonna turn your life into hell. Ocelot and his training methods are shit compared to what I’ve got in store for you."

His angry stare bored into your reddening face as he finally sat himself up in your lap. Your cheeks started burning upon realizing the compromising position the two of you were in.

"I didn’t mean to. I am deeply sorry.", you said pleading. Your mind was running wild, frantically searching for an exit out of this disastrous event. Disappearing into thin air sounded grateful. Or being struck by lightning. Anything really.

And there it was. Another pretty good idea. _Or stupid._ Depends on who you’d ask. But since you had already failed miserably…

Without further thinking you reached for his collar and pulled. Miller went down a second time. A strangled yelp escaping his angry lips. You held him tight, face firmly pressed against the crook of his neck. He couldn’t get up now. Caught in the bloody wallaby bag.

"I am sorry, commander. But you have to stay here until you calmed down."

Your voice was surprisingly sturdy. Unlike his harsh, uncoordinated movements. He struggled hard to get free, to get away from you, involuntary grinding his body against yours. You shooed any inappropriate thought out of the window for it to be carried away by the ocean breeze. Yet your heart was beating incredibly fast.

"You imbecile. Let go!"

"Only if you apologize, commander."

His stirring came to a halt. Hesitation caused by your bolt choice of words.

"All I wanted was to help you. And you were an imbecile yourself."

You offered peace by loosening your grip and giving him some space. Risking another head butt. Which wouldn't surprise you at all. Still you feared he might hit you or even knock you out this time. However, he only braced his hand next to your head. But his angry eyes were burning into yours. If it weren’t for his shades you would have caught fire and burned to ashes by now.

"Sometimes you are just a thickheaded donkey.", you shot him a crocked grin, still clutching the collar of his coat, now stained with your blood. Damn, you had made quite a mess.

What did you just called him? A thickheaded donkey? He blinked at your rather curious insult, momentarily speechless. But you were right. Well, not wrong at least. He had been unfair with you. For the -please insert multiple digit number here- time since you started working directly under his order. All you were doing was providing a helping hand. Without mockery, without pity. Only sympathy. You knew he hated being treated like an invalid. Everybody knew. But not everybody was capable of actually handling him the right way. Resulting in an unreasonable amount of fired and worn out assistants. Until a certain pistol bobcat pointed right at you. Grinning like cheshire cat.

Your empathic streak had landed you the job in the first place. So you thought or at least hoped. Although, upon further contemplation it was probably just another attempt of Ocelot to bully you for whatever reason. _That Russian bastard._

Working with..correction, under commander Miller was not easy, to put it mildly. Because his temper was out of control since Afghanistan. Handling Miller had been like dancing in a mine field. Barefooted, only covered by a ridiculously small towel and with a furious rhinoceros breathing down your neck. Most of the time he lost it over the smallest inconvenience. Little details, trivialities.Nothing truly worth the hustle.

After a while he seemed to realize that too.

"Wallaby..", he begun unexpectedly softly.

"Yeah?"

"I.." Hesitation again. "I am..sorry."

You smiled satisfied. "It’s all right. And now, let me help. And then you are coming with me. I was here to pick you up, remember?"

A slight nod from him and you released your grip. Miller however did not move. His hand was still braced next to your head, your faces unbearably close.

He studied your facial features. And while doing so he did not give the impression to be completely oblivious to your current somewhat unprofessional position. He even had to admit, this new angle suited you well. Your breath was ever so slightly hitching, lips slightly parted, face slightly reddened. Deliciously compromising.

However there was still blood smeared over your chin. Granted, it disturbed the view, but was not too much out of the usual. Miller had seen you after missions that went havoc. Covered in cuts, bruises and blood.

You were a strong soldier, bearing your every injury with pride, dutiful collecting scars for the one and only Big Boss. And you always stood up for yourself. No one was allowed to push Bloody Wallaby around. Well, except for Ocelot. But the Russian was famous for his exquisit methods of torture. The guy probably held a degree in that gruesome field, which he most likely kept in a golden picture frame next to his bed. _Bloody psychopath._

While you could only try to defy Ocelot, you always stood up against Miller. With patience, wits and softness. Unlike every other assistant before. Maybe that was the reason you were still with him. Of course he had tried to get rid of you, the second you started the job. The unholy amount of GMP (gross military product aka money) spend on neatly printed diamond dogs coffee mugs served as undeniable evidence. But you had been pretty persistent. Much to everyones surprise. First and foremost Miller’s.

Following his orders was never a problem. You were a soldier after all. Obedient but not submissive. Miller wondered if you would be willing to follow different orders in the privacy of his quarters. Quickly he banned those more than inappropriate considerations. Ultimately returning to reality.

While he was lost in thoughts you had time to study him in return. One particular detail caught your attention. His forehead seemed astonishingly untouched, considering its prominent effect on your face. You cursed the thick scull of his for being unscratched, while you were left with a bleeding, cracked nose and a black eye. _Un-fucking-believable._

You'd better come up with a reasonable explanation for Ocelot. Telling him about this catastrophic incident was unthinkable. Blaming it on training was not an option either. He knew your schedule. What about the petty excuse with the door?

_"It was dark, Sir. I was inattentive, Sir."_

Definitely wouldn’t work for him. _Damn it._

Miller finally awakened from his rigidity, scanning the room thoughtfully. The crutch was out of his reach. Following his gaze you knew what you had to do. Gently touching his shoulders and with an apologetic look you switched positions. Now you were straddling him.

Bracing yourself up against his chest, you could feel his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. Similar to yours it was racing. _Fast._ You lingered a little too long. Sensing his shocked gaze boring into your form, you turned to the side, stretching and grabbing the crutch. Handing it over to your baffled commander. Despite his surprise he took the object from your hand.

You got up and kneeled next to him. Just like you've seen it with Snake you placed a hand on his back and one on his chest, waiting until he had angled his healthy leg, you lifted him up. Finally Miller was back on his foot. And you were still holding him. A short moment you both stayed like this. Simply feeling each others presence. Then you let him go.

Now it was your turn to scan the room. Bending down with a small click of your tongue you fetched the dark fabric. You tapped any dust away and shook the beret back into its original shape. After placing it carefully on his head you beamed at him. A happy smile.

"Done. Now, please follow me, commander.", you pointed at the door.

Without any more rude comments or any resistance at all he followed you suit out of his office. There was the faint echo of jiggling spurs in the hallway. Miller brushed it aside. Probably just the wind. You on the other hand didn’t even noticed.

While you were walking next to each other in complete silence, you were using a handkerchief to clean your nose. Most of your blood was now on Miller's trench coat, from when you held him down. You took a mental note to wash his coat. You owed him this much after all.

From the lower corner of his eye Miller noticed the red stains on his collar. He was internally cursing for bringing another burden into the already overloaded cleaning department. And because they would talk. He despised the never ending gossip. Plus he wasn’t too keen on stirring any more rumors.

The Seychelles waters splashed against the steel pillars that balanced the offshore plant on their shoulders like ancient atlas carried the world. The powerful waves muffled the slow footfalls resonating in the corridor. Seagulls were squawking in the distance.

Miller’s discomfort grew with every step. Upon reaching the small cafeteria located south on command platform he broke the silence and asked, "What are you up to?"

"Just a second."

The mess hall was empty. Quite unusual considering the time. Shouldn’t they be serving dinner right now?

"Where the hell is everybody? What is going on?"

"Just a second", you repeated and lead Miller into the also empty kitchen. He was hesitating again.

The door closed with an unpleasant squeak. He looked at you. A questioning frown plastered all over his face.

"Tell me what the hell is going on. That is an order!"

"I want you to show me how to make curry.", you gave him a bright smile, ultimately relieved he didn’t managed to knock a tooth out of the front row.

"You want me to explain it?"

You shook your head. "I want you to show me."

"Bloody Wallaby. You are fucking kidding, right?", he growled. "I have only one arm. How the fuck am I supposed to cook like this?"

You held out both your hands. "You have three arms, commander. I am going to help."

Bewildered he shook his head. "Bullshit. This has to be the worst idea ever."

A small sigh escaped your lips. You softly placed a hand on his shoulder, afraid he might run away.

"Do you trust me, commander?"

What a ridiculous question. Of course he trusted you. You were a _bloody_ brilliant soldier. A true diamond.

He let out a breath he didn’t knew he had held in. And with clenched teeth he replied.

"What do you think?"

You knew this was the best answer you would get from him, so you took it and cherished it.

*

Miller's trench coat was neatly folded over a chair. The commander was standing next to the stove, carefully stirring the content of a pan. His crutch rested against the counter next to him. You stood right behind him, pressed up against his back, chin braced on his shoulder. You had to stretch a little but it wasn't completely uncomfortable. With your arms placed under his shoulders, you were reaching past his sides to assist him. Pan in the right hand, lid in the left. From the front it must have looked like Miller indeed had three arms. And two heads to be precise, but that wasn't the point. Your limbs were compensating his lost ones.

Miller had to admit that he was enjoying himself. Remembering the good old times of the Militaires Sans Frontières. A bitter but beloved memento. The feeling of your form pressed to his back was nice, with a comforting heat radiating off of you. And you smelled really lovely. The subtle hint of vanilla aroused his attention. A strong contrast to the otherwise harsh and rather pungent scent of mother base. This was a pleasant change from the familiar mix of machine oil, gunpowder and sweat. He could feel your steady heartbeat. Rhythmic and calming. It was reassuring. You held him upright and made him temporarily whole again.

He had prior explained the ingredients and work steps. And now the two of you were cooking together. Much to Miller's surprise you moved fairly intuitively. He never needed to tell you what he wanted to do next. You always knew. And so it almost felt like your arms would truly belong to him. He felt completed and he felt content.

You two were lightheartedly chatting while cooking. About the hilarious amount of goats Snake had rescued via fulton extraction, DD’s training to become a real diamond dog and a lot more of this and that. And as silence fell upon the kitchen you started humming a gentle tune. A sweet and soothing melody.

When Miller moved to the counter next to the oven you moved as well. Perfectly synchronized. Then the commander turned around in the intimate embrace, causing you to back off a little. Your hands rested tenderly on his hip. Knees touching.

He glanced into your shining orbs, sparkling like diamonds in contrast to his shaded, dull irides, fascinated by the sheer depth of your eyes. There were small spots of a darker tone of your eye color turning them into little, endless galaxies.

Observing the light stubble framing his chin you had a hard time resisting the sudden and intense urge to bring your hand to his face and caress his cheek. He _deserved_ a gentle touch. Miller had ditched shaving regularly due to it being rather inconvenient in execution for him. One hand and all. You once almost asked him, if he would allow you to do it for him. However, you discarded the idea, not wanting to spend a whole lot of time in the brig or scrubbing goat shit off of the floors on the animal conservation platform.

Slowly but surely you started crumbling beneath his stern gaze. He noticed how your glance shyly flickered from his eyes to his mouth and back up. And so his look involuntarily traveled from your bruised nose to your plum lips. The sweet smile looked good on them.

And for the blink of an eye the world stood still.

He slowly dipped his head down. Carefully and unsure. Giving in on his oppressed desire that had seethed inside him. Forgetting the strict rules and tossing the etiquette out of the window in a possibly record-breaking high arc.

However a strident ringing disturbed the approaching event.

You blinked, abundantly irritated. _What the hell?_ Crying internally you mustered the strength to reach for the counter to silence the nuisance. Cursing the little clock timer ungraciously for ruining the precious moment.

*

A while later the two of you were seated opposite of each other near a window in the otherwise empty mess hall. You had even managed to decorate the table. A plaid piece of fabric served as a table cloth with a candle on top and your walkman played some soft instrumental music, creating a cozy atmosphere.

"This is truly divine. Absolutely delicious. It is even better than I imagined. The famous curry prepared by commander Miller himself.", you rambled enthusiastically.

Your childish joy created by something so simple was refreshing to his mind.

"Well, this famous curry was prepared by Wallaby and Miller."

Your head jolted up.

"Two third of this is your merit.", he said, quietly adding, "Couldn't have done it without you."

You almost choked, blinking in disbelieve at his sudden confession.

"Commander, I hope you know, you are still more than capable of doing kitchen work.", you grinned. And in a hush tone you added, "And that it’s absolutely okay to let others help."

"You're right." Much to your astonishment Miller smiled. What a pleasant surprise.

"In regard of both things."

Now he had rendered you speechless. Staring at him. Baffled.

He smiled with honesty. And behind his aviators Miller’s eyes seemed to sparkle, despite their awful condition. It appeared the evening had affected him in a positive way. He seemed somewhat relaxed, compared to normally. It filled you with pride, that you had managed to distract him from his path of vengeance and brought him peace, even if it was only for a little bit.

After a while Miller cleared his throat.

"Well, feels like a date to me."

"Commander.."

"My name is Kazuhira. Call me Kaz, if you please. You've earned it."

"Kazuhira. A beautiful name.", you grinned, genuinely happy about his proposal.

He smiled back.

"Kaz, I really hope my unprofessional manner doesn't get me into trouble."

Now it was your turn to be uncertain and anxious.

"Don't worry about it, Wallaby."

He hadn’t smiled this much in a long time.

*

After dinner you cleared the table. Miller looked after you as you went into the kitchen to clean up. He was still slightly smiling.

Together you walked to his quarters. Upon reaching the door you turned to face him.

"Here we are. It has been a really nice evening. Thank you. Good night, commander."

He looked at you. Shoulders slightly slouched, hand clenched around the gripe of his crutch. A war raged within his mind.

"Can I ask you a favor?" His voice was a dark rasp with the vague hint of a plea.

You could clearly see how much willpower it took out of him to bring those words across his lips.

"Of course, commander..I mean, Kaz." You smiled sheepishly.

"Will you help me to go to bed?" He asked. And after a short pause he faintly added, "Please?"

Your breath hitched. Did he just asked nicely? For the first time since you’ve started working for him he said "please" and truly meant it. You nodded. Of cause you did.

It wasn't the first time you've helped with his evening routine. However, it was the first time he didn't fought you while doing so. No snarling comments about your flimsy hands, no barked orders to hurry the fuck up, no warning glares to remind you not to look too closely at him. It was a more than welcome change.

Sitting on the edge of his bed you softly smiled at him. After you draped the covers over him you reached for his aviators. His hand gently grabbing your wrist startled you.

"Stay. Until I fall asleep." Now he was really pleading. Still fighting himself and his damn pride.

How could you deny him?

"Just until you fall asleep.", you answered.

When you're about to get up to grab a chair Miller scooted over. Patting the free space next to him. Silently you followed his unspoken order. Discarding your uniform jacket to the floor and climbing into bed with him. He even offered you part of the blanket.

Pressing a chaste kiss on his miraculously unscathed forehead you gently smiled at him.

"Good night, Kaz. Sweet dreams."

"Good night, Wallaby."

You laid down. Miller coyly nestled himself into your side.

*

Morning came and you squinted sleepily. Unsure whether you had the strangest dream ever or Ocelot drugged you for another particularly brutal training session in room 101 or your mind simply played a wicked trick on you. Yawning, rubbing your face and casting sleep away you tried to clear your head. Strangely unable to leave the drowsy state you were in.

A stirring next to you haltered your movements all at once. _Wait. What?_ Your eyes widened. Suddenly sleep had left you with a panic haste. In this instant you felt the arm draped across your stomach. A hand loosely gripping your side.

Hesitantly you turned your head. _Oh what a sight for your now keen eyes._

His blond locks were falling disheveled over the pillow. Framing his still sleeping face like uneven rays of golden light. The crooked, rusted crown of a fallen king. Carefully, not to wake him up, you pushed a stray strand of hair from his forehead, gently tucking it behind his ear. You used the given opportunity to thoughtfully study his face. He looked peaceful. Quite different from when he was awake, much to your sorrow.

Then he opened his eyes. To see the dull veil over his irides stung your heart.

"Morning.", you whispered.

"Wallaby.", he rasped. His voice still rough and clouded with sleep.

His hand left your body. You propped yourself up on one elbow. Already missing his warm touch. You were still facing him, uncertain of how to proceed from here.

Miller brought his hand up to your face. His fingertips were ghosting over the dark bruise beneath your eye.

_I am sorry about that._

He said nothing. His apologetic frown was more than enough for you.

"This was my fault anyway.", you chuckled, causing the skin to wrinkle, sending a small streak of pain through the bruise. "Had it coming."

He gave you a stern look. You smiled softly and nodded. A silent agreement.

Turning away to pick up his aviators from the nightstand you noticed the time.

_Oh no._

"Shit. Training starts in ten. Ocelot will kill me."

You faced him again and carefully placed the shades on his nose.

"Go.", he said.

Hastily you jumped out of bed, bending down to quickly lace your boots and fetch your uniform jacket. While you were busy trying to get ready, Miller rubbed his face. Visibly still tired. Command had a different schedule than the infantry. Even though you were Miller’s assistant you still held a rather low rank in the rows of the diamond dogs. Well, not E rank, _thank God_ , but still pretty low. The desperate attempt to tame your ruffled hair was futile, so you gave it up.

"Hurry up, Wallaby. Would be a shame if Ocelot skinned you alive." He gave you a crooked grin, reminding you that time was running out.

"See you in the office, commander." You dared to wink at him.

He nodded and you endowed him with one last sweet smile. With that you were out of the door.

*

Damn. You were late. Whilst swearing and praying you were rushing over to combat platform like your life depended on it. Which was true to some extend. While hurrying past fellow diamond dog soldiers you almost pushed Crying Ant over the rail when running past them. They cursed rudely after you. Shouting an apology over your shoulder you sped up. The fresh ocean breeze was audibly whipping past your ears.

Upon arriving you saw that everyone was already there. Exercise started like five minutes ago. Quickly and hopefully stealthy enough you got in line in the back for roll call. _Fingers crossed._

"Wallaby."

_Fuck._

Much to your dismay Ocelot was looking right at you. His sharp blue eyes never missed anything. Neither target nor rule violation.

"Yes, Sir.", you called out.

"C’mere.", he commanded with a small ludic gesture of his hand.

You obeyed.

Your comrades eyes carefully followed your walk of shame to the front of training ground. All the way up to the very devil himself who was already grinning cautiously. Everyone was curiously staring at you and Ocelot now. Sensing their undivided hyper vigilance made you feel ferociously anxious. You saluted him, straightening your back. _Attention!_

Your uniform was wrinkled and buttoned up the wrong way, your hair somewhat out of place. In short, you looked beyond messy. It was more than painfully obvious you hadn’t slept in your own quarter. _Shame on you._

Ocelot stepped into your personal space, his spurs jiggling mockingly. Grabbing your face firmly but not too rough, fingers clad in red leather pinching your cheeks, he lifted your chin, scanning the damage with an ever so scrutinizing gaze.

"What happened to your face, Wallaby?", he asked with his typical southern drawl.

"I ran into a door, Sir." You were having a hard time restraining your voice. A single stutter and he would know what he already knew.

"A door?", he raised an eyebrow. Questioning your frail answer by giving you a suspicious look.

You tried to nod but his grip was strong. He registered the motion anyway.

"It was dark, Sir. I was inattentive, Sir.", you said, mentally cursing and smacking yourself for actually using this pathetic excuse.

"You need to work on your balance, Wallaby, if a door can bring you down so easily.", he said in a playful tone. Bluntly mocking you for doubting his intelligence and wit by lying straight to his face. He _was_ the master of interrogation after all.

But did you heard him right? The knowing look on his face told the tale. You gulped. He noticed it, reading right from every twitch of your face. He knew. _Oh God, he knew everything._

He dipped forward, bringing his head next to yours, whispering into your ear.

"He sure is a thickheaded donkey, isn't he."

A cold shudder chased down your back.

"You smell exactly like him. Does this mean what I think it does?", he was grinning widely. Baring his teeth. They looked rather like fangs. _Sly feline bastard._

Your body became rigid. He moved backwards, still grinning, releasing his tight grip.

"Well." He got out of your bright red face and clasped his hands together.

Then, with a satisfied smirk on his lips he said,

"Looks like we finally found a worthy assistant for the grumpy commander."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :)


End file.
